


Poor Seduction Technique

by howisthataparty



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Basically, F/M, Fluff without Plot, Tumblr Prompt, clintasha living together, more dialogue than anything else, really this is Gen but there is some shedding of layers so JUST TO BE SAFE, this was something I wrote ages ago and still love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howisthataparty/pseuds/howisthataparty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is trying to get Natasha's attention, but fails until he almost wins. <br/>Or, Clint has trouble keeping  his clothes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poor Seduction Technique

Natasha’s reading a new briefing packet, fresh off the press after her last mission finished today. Mind on Status: Complete mode, all she’s interested in is learning the next steps and targets, no matter what Clint seems to read into her non-jumpsuit clothes.

“Hey, Tasha.” 

Usually a nod or a mumble that sounds a little bit like “Clint” satisfies him, but not today. Today, he’s out for details.

"Finish the job, huh?"

"Mmm."

"How’d it go?"

"Good."

"C’mon, it had to be more than good.”

"Read the file, or Fury’s e-mails."

"His e-mails? Tasha, every social media derivative you have has at least five encryptions. There’s no way I’m getting to your e-mails without you logging in."

"File then."

"Uhhhhhhhnn, why? Can’t you just tell me? I wanna know how it went!"

"I’m busy." 

"You’re no fun."

No comment.

A few minutes goes by with Clint putzing around the kitchen, literally banging pots and pans for no other reason than to make noise. When he pauses his drum session, he can hardly see Natasha breathing. Normally he would take this as a sign of complete focus and a floating “do not disturb” sign like the cloud in MarioKart, but he’s bored and annoyed that the redhead isn’t talking.

"Tasha, seriously." Squinting, he can see one eye crinkle - the only sign that she even heard him saying words.

“HEY.”

Finally, she raises her very narrowed eyes, looking at the archer like he’s just set fire to the kitchen. (It’s happened before.)

"What."

"When are you going to be finished with that?"

Natasha rolls her eyes in her minimalistic way that answers his question: she’s not going to answer it right now. Other things take precedence. The archer manages to thumb his nose for a good thirty seconds before becoming ultimately fed up. 

"If you don’t tell me anything, I’m taking my shirt off." Another eyebrow raise, but she doesn’t move or look at him. The shirt hits the floor. "Shoes too. Hell, my socks." Silence reigns, but he moves forwards while he sheds his socks.

"It’s cold in here." He gets a tiny shrug. This is more than enough incentive to continue. "Fine. No pants then." He takes a couple more emboldened steps forward towards her perch.

Now she looks up. “Clint, what are you - “

His pants are on the floor before she can finish, but he gets his victory when, in exasperation, she slaps the couch with her pamphlet and runs to pick up his trail of clothes. While she holds out an angry arm out with everything, even the socks, draped over it, he can almost swear he sees fire in her green eyes.

"What is your problem??” Only then, once she’s looked him dead in the eye, does she notice him looking at her. Looking. Meaningfully. Her breathe snags minutely in her throat while she suddenly becomes aware of his foot touching hers. He’s cold. 

"Tasha." A bare arm shoots out and grabs her hip, drawing her directly in front of him. There's a smug grin hiding in one corner of his mouth.

A slow breath out, and a red eyebrow shoots up again. “What?”

"Tell me? I know it went well."

"Put on your clothes first."

"Aw, come on. Do I have to put the shirt on again?"

"I thought you said it was cold.”

"You’re not hearing me here."

Only he is capable of noticing - or knowing to look for - the tiny smile that she's allowed him through her annoyance. 

"Fine. Shirt not required. But I’m not talking to you without the pants."

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr drabble prompt on my old rp blog.


End file.
